ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. You have only to look resolute and proceed upon your way. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. The hansom sped through the crowded streets.
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